


A Shadow of a Golden Afternoon

by LyricDreamweaver



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Extremely thing plot, M/M, Sexual Content, Time Travel, Touch Telepathy, Victorian era, linking with solids
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-26
Updated: 2017-09-26
Packaged: 2019-01-05 18:33:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12195381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LyricDreamweaver/pseuds/LyricDreamweaver
Summary: The lace curtains billowed with a strong breeze, the scent of petrichor and morning glory blossoms heavy in the air. Somewhere, far off, clouds gathered, thunder rumbling over the rolling hills. Soon, perhaps, it would be evening and, with it, a dull drizzle over the English countryside.Inside, Quark and Odo were warm in the bedroom. A fire—Odo's doing—crackled in the fireplace, spreading warmth through the room. But it wasn't the fireplace that was making Quark feel so warm.





	A Shadow of a Golden Afternoon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EldritchTribble](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EldritchTribble/gifts).



> I offer this up on bended knee. Hopefully, it satisfies your need for Quark and Odo trying to get along.

The lace curtains billowed with a strong breeze, the scent of petrichor and morning glory blossoms heavy in the air. Somewhere, far off, clouds gathered, thunder rumbling over the rolling hills. Soon, perhaps, it would be evening and, with it, a dull drizzle over the English countryside.

Inside, Quark and Odo were warm in the bedroom. A fire—Odo's doing—crackled in the fireplace, spreading warmth through the room. But it wasn't the fireplace that was making Quark feel so warm.

It was a strange sensation to penetrate Odo. The Changeling felt impossibly smooth and with just the slightest bit of friction to make it pleasurable. And, despite the gruff tone he used, it was clear to Quark that Odo appreciated it. Or, maybe, perversely and impossibly, Odo enjoying pleasuring Quark.

He must because there seemed to be some feedback loop buzzing under Quark's skin, only heightening the pleasure he felt under Odo's stoic gaze.

And then Odo unfolded his arms, hands gently tracing the curve of Quark's ears, feather-light in his touches, always careful not to give Quark anything satisfying. This frustration, however, had the Ferengi yowling like a cat, hips jerking violently but not quite at his peak.

But with Odo making those touches on his lobes harder and fingers straying toward something deeper weren't doing much to stave it off.

"Odo—and"

Odo hummed, wordless consent.

Quark came, skin singing his climax. Odo hummed before his lips parted, a quirk in his brow the only sign he was responding to Quark.

It seemed Odo had been dazed by the sensation, taking a moment before untangling himself from Quark and taking that lovely, piercing pleasure with him.

For a moment, every colour seemed duller to Quark, every sensation lifeless, and the Ferengi thought he was going mad.

"Odo?"

"It's fine," Odo said, though he retreated, avoiding any physical contact. "I'm fine."

Quark reached out to the Changeling, then decided against it, hand dropping to his side.

"Was it—?"

"I enjoyed it, yes." Odo stared at Quark. "You're tired."

"You're sure you're alright?"

Odo nodded. Then, before Quark could ask anything else, he turned into a sleek black cat, leaping from the bed and stalking across the room. Odo leapt onto the windowsill, then down, paws thumping in the garden.

One day, perhaps, Quark would understand the Changeling's mood swings.

* * *

For all the stealth Odo had, Quark had to question who taught him.

He set down the newspaper—a paper marked April of 1846—and had to be amused. The front page headline read, in large, bold letters, "PHANTOM HOUND SPOTTED NEAR CRUMBLING MANOR: FICTION OR FACT?"

Quark knew for a fact Odo had gone out at night in the shape of a large black dog. It was intimidating enough, Odo reasoned, that no one would bother him. Sure, a brave boy lost in the woods would try to pet him but a display of teeth would send even the most troublesome humans running.

There was a sketch that did a rather poor job of capturing Odo's bestial likeness. He didn't have teeth _that_ sharp, for one.

Odo came into the parlour and set two rabbits—strangled—in the Ferengi's lap. 

"You need to eat," Odo said. 

He was gone before Quark could show him the paper and the Ferengi thought maybe there was some truth. Odo wasn't some ghost hound, just a very confusing mix of Changeling emotions.

* * *

In al honesty, Quark wasn't undoing anything. He just wasn't an engineer. 

But something about the way Odo's hands brushed up against his made Quark want to play dumb. Especially when Odo rolled his eyes in that endearingly annoyed way and tried not to grin.

"You would think," Odo said, taking over a majority of the repairs, "you would know how to fix your own ship."

"I just tend the bar," Quark answered, handing tools off to the Changeling. 

"Well, there might not be a bar for you to tend," Odo grumbled. He looked things over, prodding here and there at some errant wire or another.

Quark, a smirk crossing his face, looked up at the Changeling. "When did you get to be so handy?"

"The occupation." 

And the Cardassians had done more than teach their Changeling pet about repairs, it seemed. Since the Quark's translator had stopped working the moment they'd crossed into a time that wasn't there own, they had to switch to the language of hisses and sharp sounds Cardassians used. It was, in a way, just like old times. Except now they were more _intimate._

"Quark." A grumble but not a warning.

"Sorry, Odo. I got distracted. You make one handsome handyman."

The Changeling huffed and went back to making minor adjustments and fixes.

* * *

This, to Quark, was almost perfect. They had a place to sleep, a home with the two of them working together. They often made small, chaste gestures of affection—Quark taking Odo's hand, interlacing their fingers, or Odo resting his head on Quark's shoulder (though Quark was always trying to think about anything other than if Odo's breath would have been hot, should the Changeling need to breathe).

Sometimes, Quark wanted to make progress, a hand resting idly on the Changeling's thigh or a soft, sexually charged remark. But he avoided it.

Odo seemed to avoid it as well.

But a heavy rainfall kept the two of them in the house, neither wanting to go out of the warmth of the house to the shed, where their ship rested sadly. 

Odo seemed to make a game out of avoiding Quark. Sometimes, he would gently excuse himself, darting off. Other times, Odo would turn into a piece of furniture and wait until Quark had left. It was infuriating.

Quark finally cornered Odo in the parlour. He caught Odo turning into a vase and crossed his arms. If Odo was being sloppy, he definitely wasn't happy. But whether he would bite like a cornered dog or open up was entirely up to chance.

"Odo," Quark said, one hand on his hip, "I'm not a Borg and I won't assimilate you."

Odo, who had been quite content to take the shape of a vase of green carnations, sighed and took his humanoid shape, eyes narrowed at Quark.

"You're avoiding me," Quark pointed out.

There was a long silence, Odo refusing to say anything, to do anything. He crossed his arms over his chest. Softly, rain pattered on the roof.

"I am."

"Why?" Not demanding. That would be pressing the Changeling too hard. Just a direct question.

Odo sighed, turning away from Quark and pacing, something Odo only did if he had something important on his mind. Quark packed up any snide remarks he had, locking them in the back of his mind.

"Do you remember—"

"How could I forget?" 

Odo turned to give Quark an unamused glance. Then, slowly, he stared out the window, watching lightning strike somewhere far off. Another peal of thunder, then, "I . . . I might have Linked with you, Quark."

"You did what?" Quark was interested now, moving closer to Odo, ever cautious of the Changeling's motions, stopping when Odo seemed like he might run. 

"It's . . . telepathy, of a kind."

"Oh." Quark wasn't quite sure what to say to that. It seemed Odo was simply full of surprises lessons. "So?"

"So what?" Odo replied, looking down a the Ferengi. 

"Did you enjoy it?" Quark asked.

Odo seemed flustered, unable to answer for a long moment. Slowly, softly. "I did."

"Then what's the problem?"

"My enjoyment has nothing to do with it. It wasn't just some party trick," Odo snapped. "I could _feel_ your thoughts."

That was sure something, Quark thought. And the thought of Odo being able to read his thoughts gave Quark ideas. 

"Odo, it's fine," Quark assured the Changeling. 

"It is not fine," Odo said, turning away from the window. "It's an invasion of you, Quark."

"I'm flattered that you care, Odo, but I'm fine with it." Quark reached over and took Odo's hand. "I trust you."

Odo seemed conflicted—still wrestling with the idea of this accidental side-effect of their intimacy—but slowly interlaced their fingers. Quark leaned up, capturing Odo's lipless mouth in a heated kiss.

There was a subtle buzzing under Quark's skin, heating his blood and making him doubt they would make it to the bedroom.

* * *

They made it to the couch, which was good enough for Quark. Odo had fumbled, not used to the way solids fastened things and certainly being sent six hundred years back wasn't helping. 

But Quark thought he might get used to the idea of Odo's weird touch-telepathy is it would get the Changeling to keep doing _that_ with his hands. Not even "Oo-mox For Fun and Profit" had a section on the sensual way Odo's fingers were working, adjusting without Quark needing to say a thing. 

Odo looked down at Quark with interest, the Changeling's hips grinding down against Quark's. The sight of Odo riding him was a handsome one and something he could also get used to.

"Quark." There was a note of pleasure in the Changeling's tone.

Quark rested one of his hands on Odo's hip, guiding the Changeling down, getting the best angle. Part of him cursed that Odo wasn't a solid. He could have had the Changeling writhing, Quark mused, begging, panting, eyes rolled back.

But this—Odo looking down, hands on his lobes, accepting Quark so easily while also knowing just the right amount of pressure—was just as good. Maybe better.

"Quark?" 

"You're handsome," Quark blurted out. His thumb traced idle circles on Odo's hip. 

"Oh." Odo narrowed his eyes, adjusting his technique—and how Odo got so good at oo-mox, Quark wasn't going to question—coaxing Quark into purring. "You are . . . not nearly as repulsive as you could be.

Coming from Odo, that was some highbrow praise, worth more latinum than Quark could ever earn.

"You're priceless," Quark said. He was close and unsure whether he'd spoken in hisses and clicks or in his native tongue. Either way, Odo caught the meaning.

He did something delightful with his hands and Quark cried the Changeling's name over and over as he came.

For a long moment, they were quiet. The rain still pattered on the roof, though lighter, and thunder rumbled somewhere distantly.

"So," Quark said softly.

"It was pleasant," Odo answered. "Sorry, should I not have—"

"It's fine," Quark assured him. "You can use that touch telepathy on me anytime."

"You honestly trust me enough?" Odo asked.

"Yeah. I do."

Odo seemed to be searching Quark's face for some hint of lying, something to assure the Changeling this was a drawn-out prank. Finding nothing, he relaxed, settled comfortable on Quark.

* * *

It was easier to repair things with their new trust. Odo would brush against Quark, who could get a feel for what to hand the Changeling or picking up on an emotion without any words needing to be said. And, together, they got it up and running.

"Are you sure this will work?" Odo asked.

"Odo, you would be surprised to know I have more adventures than the bar," Quark pointed out. 

Odo huffed, but decided to trust the Ferengi. After all, they had an agreement.

He could only wonder how things would change if and when they returned to the station.


End file.
